


Remember

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, Fluff, Future Fic, Just imagine Australia never happened, M/M, Makoto and Haru being idiots, Matchmaker Nagisa, Rin being an uncle, Ten Years Later, bottom makoto, parent Makoto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haruka Nanase never left Iwatobi. He didn't see how this was a problem.<br/>That is, until a face from the past shows up on his doorstep.</p>
<p>Ten years is a long time, and some things are more easily forgotten than one would imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. The first multi-chapter fic I've written in years!  
> I should probably mention I started writing this way before episode 11, so any similarities to canon are very much coincidences. Anyway, I just couldn't get me enough Makoharu fics, so I had to write one of my own. Enjoy this very-much-uneventful chapter, I swear it gets better!

It was a completely normal Wednesday evening when Nagisa Hazuki suddenly showed up on Haruka’s doorstep. His blond hair was unruly and his eyes shone in the same way they always had. Actually, nothing seemed to have changed about him except a small gain in height. That was the strangest part. Nagisa Hazuki had left Iwatobi ten years ago, and Haru hadn’t seen him since. That’s why his old friend’s arrival brought a frown onto his forehead.

“Haru-chan!” Nagisa beamed, as if no time had passed at all – as if a decade hadn’t gone by since their last encounter, “Long time no see.”

Haruka was taken aback, sure, but somehow not distressed. He realised that he hadn’t reminisced his high school days in a very long time. Nagisa had always been a bit of a nuisance, but he remembered once being very fond of him. To put it frankly he was quite glad to see him.

“Nagisa.” Was all he could think of saying, and Nagisa’s grin got even wider.

 

He invited him in for tea. It seemed the only polite thing to do. Haru had learnt once (a long time ago) that politeness was of utmost importance – though he’d never fully grasped why. Nagisa was curious. He wanted to know every detail of Haru’s life since they’d last met and Haru (who didn’t often dwell on his own story) realised there was little to tell.

“So you basically haven’t left Iwatobi for the past decade, huh?” Nagisa sighed after Haru’s five-minute-recap of his adult life. He’d stayed in Iwatobi on the basis that it was home. He’d never known anything different, and he wasn’t particularly fond of change. Sasabe had offered him a job shortly after graduation and he’d accepted simply because it gained him unlimited access to the local pool. And so he’d spent his young adulthood swimming and cleaning pools, living in a cheap flat close to his childhood home.

Nagisa had seen the world.

“First I went to Hong Kong, but it wasn’t far enough so I took the train to India ad before I knew it I’d hitched a ride with some French guys who owned a yacht and were sailing the African coast – lots of pirates in those parts, I tell you, but they’re only dangerous if you don’t know how to deal with them.” The blond giggled, seemingly at some old memory, before continuing his tale, “Then when we reached South Africa I managed to get on a plane to Cairo and from there I eventually got to Europe. Italy was nice, France was even nicer – oh, in a town in southern Germany there were tiny canals lining the streets where you could wet your feet, you’d love it there-“

Haru would’ve lied if he’d claimed his thoughts didn’t drift off at least twice during the very-much-longer-than-his-own story. Nagisa seemed to have had the time of his life.

“I almost stayed in Paris for good, you know.” He sighed, after a very elaborate story about some dancing ladies in fancy skirts, “I have a cousin who lives just by the Seine, it’s kind of magical.”

“Why didn’t you?” Haru asked, mostly out of politeness.

“I missed home, I guess. All the new friends I made reminded me of old ones, and I realized just how long I’d been away.” Nagisa smiled, gazing out the window before turning to Haru again, smiling, “Speaking of old friends – how’s Makoto doing nowadays?”

Haru looked up in surprise.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well,” Nagisa’s smile turned into a frown, “I figured since you guys were always so close, you’d know?” the expectations in Nagisa´s voice hung like clouds around them.

“Nagisa, I haven’t spoken to him in ten years.”

The silence that fell in the kitchen was thick and uncomfortable in a way that made Haru want to break it the second he closed his mouth. The look on Nagisa’s face, however, made him hold his tongue.

“Did something happen?” he asked, sounding like he was stepping on thin ice and feared it might break.

“He moved to Tokyo.” Haru’s voice was deadpan.

“Why didn’t you just call him?”

“Didn´t have the number.”

Nagisa sighed quietly, suddenly looking almost ready to cry.

“You mean he just left, without even leaving you a number to call?”

Haru didn’t bother using his voice again, so he settled for a slight nod. He didn’t quite understand the flicker of pain in his friend’s eyes. As a matter of fact he hadn’t thought of Makoto for years. Makoto had wanted to become a nurse, and all the best schools were in Tokyo. So Makoto had moved to Tokyo. Haruka didn’t see how this could cause Nagisa to look at him as if he was a fragile glass doll in need of protection.

“Are you okay with that?” he asked, after a few more moments of awkward silence.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Haru suddenly felt defensive. He didn’t understand the way Nagisa’s voice sounded so wary – as if he was afraid of pouring salt in wounds that weren’t there. He honestly had paid no mind to the matter. He was sure Makoto was doing just fine, whatever he was doing.

It seemed Nagisa saw the hostility in Haru’s eyes, because he dropped the subject with a slight nod. The terrible silence wouldn’t go away though, and it wasn’t long until the blond downed the rest of his tea and gave Haru an apologetic smile.

“I better get going.” He said, “It was so nice meeting you again, though. I promise I won’t wait ten years ‘til next time.”

Haru followed his old friend out the door, and waved him off as he jogged down the stairs outside. Just before disappearing out of view, however, Nagisa turned to give Haru one last half-smile.

“You should talk to him!” he shouted, and then he was gone.

Haruka rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.

 

“Haru-kun?” Goro Sasabe peeked over the edge of the pool to see a black head of hair emerge from the water, “Can you start cleaning the office after your break?”

Haru nodded once, before once again letting his body sink beneath the surface.

Ten more minutes of peace until the world would come knocking again. The water surrounded every cell of Haru’s being and he relished the feeling of the clear substance carrying his weight and letting his body move through it almost effortlessly. Haru’s love for water was unquenchable. It was the only constant in his life that had lasted. Friends came and went and family members passed away, but the water would always be welcoming for one who knew to respect it. 

The break was over all too soon and before long Haru found himself surrounded, instead, by stacks of old reports and files. A lot of economic transactions had been recorded over the decade that the swim club had been in operation, and Sasabe had never been good with organizing – leaving the office a place of nightmares. Haru got to work placing each sheet of paper in chronological order and placing them in large boxes, for stacking. It wasn’t hard work, physically, but the young man still found himself tired after the fifth box was finally finished and he decided to start organizing them on the shelves by the right-hand wall. He lifted a box over his head, to put it on the top shelf but found, to his surprise, that something was in the way. After putting down the box and stepping onto his tiptoes he managed to retrieve the object.

It was an old shoebox. The lid was covered in a thick layer of dust and when Haru dragged his hand over the surface a brand appeared that revealed that the box had once been home to a pair of Chuck Taylor high tops. Opening the lid warily, the first thing that caught Haru’s eye was a medal. It was one of those faux gold ones that the swim club would use at tournaments, though it didn’t look like a very recent one. Underneath the metal piece lay an old poster – announcing the re-opening of the swim club. Haru felt a smile tug at his lips and frowned. Looking once more into the box he discovered a collection of photographs. The first, he realised with eyes widening in surprise, was of him. A much younger version of him, sure, but him all the same. He looked content, with a medal (identical to the one in the box) around his neck. More pictures showed his old teammates from Iwatobi High, as well as Rin and some other Samezuka students who Haru couldn’t remember the names of (though the one with silver hair who looked at Rin like he was some kind of deity seemed slightly familiar). Rin Matsuoka was the only childhood friend who Haru hadn’t completely lost contact with. Though said contact mostly consisted of Rin texting him whenever he was in Japan. Being a professional swimmer took up so much of the redhead’s time he could rarely afford socialising. Haru smiled fondly at the memories the photographs brought back. Nagisa clung to Rei’s shoulder and Haru stood in between a frustrated-but-happy Rin and a softly laughing Makoto. He remembered the happiness it brought him to swim with his friends, the way Rin punched him playfully on the shoulder, and the way Makoto laughed.

Haruka froze. No, he realized, he didn’t. He looked at the photograph once more and realized that he couldn’t for the life of him remember Makoto’s laughter.

Ten years had passed, so remembering a voice would be almost impossible, but the more pictures of Makoto’s face he came upon the more the strange feeling in his chest spread. It came suddenly, the feeling of somebody taking hold of something inside him and squeezing. His chest felt tight. He didn’t like it.

He realized he barely remembered how Makoto’s hand felt o his shoulder, how his voice called his name, or what kind of shoes he wore. There was fear in that realisation – an unwillingness to accept that he’d forgotten what he’d once thought would always be there. Not wanting precious memories to fade he turned the box upside down and let all the remaining pictures spread over the office floor. He searched through the old photographs, looking for something – anything – that would let him remember more, but it was all in vain. Of course. He found a picture of himself and Makoto, the taller’s hand draped over his shoulder and content smiles on both their faces. The strange feeling in his chest was getting worse, the longer he looked at it. He didn’t like it at all. Haru put the photograph down – whining pathetically when the uncomfortable tightness didn’t fade. Makoto’s face smiled at him from the floor and Haru didn’t know if he wanted to laugh of cry.

Water was the only constant in his life, but at some point Makoto had been one to. For a long time. For fifteen years. And then suddenly, he’d been gone. Not that Haru had thought of it much at the time – he didn’t like change, but Makoto leaving was a necessity. It had been for his own good.

So why did Haru’s cheeks suddenly feel so wet?

He hadn’t cried for years. There had been no reason to, and Haru had long since forgotten what it felt like to have sobs rip at your throat – stealing your breath. He never cried, yet here he was, not quite sure what the tears were even for. They were just old photographs. Slowly but surely urging his breathless sobs to stop he started breathing normally again. The picture of Makoto’s arm around his shoulder was stashed away with the rest of the shoebox treasures behind several bigger boxes on the most unreachable shelf available.

But the weird feeling of tightness remained in his chest until much later that evening, long after he’d gotten home and had his usual dinner (consisting of mackerel and instant noodles). It was somewhere in between his daily shower and him collapsing on the sofa that the realisation hit him. It wasn’t just a photograph that had made him this way – it was the way that he’d forgotten something he thought he never would.

He didn’t remember Makoto’s voice, nor did he remember what he smelt like or how it felt when he pulled him out of the bathtub in the morning.

These were things he’d once known, and lost without even noticing.

Haruka suddenly felt a strong urge to know them again. It was as if he’d lost a piece of an important puzzle, without realizing just how important it was.

He needed that missing piece.

A Google search for Makoto Tachibana gave him too many hits to count. Narrowing the search down to men only made the amount drop dramatically. It didn’t take him ten minutes to find the one he was looking for. There was a phone number – hell, even an address – but as soon as the thought of calling appeared in his head Haru realized what a fool he was being. He’d managed without Makoto for ten years. Makoto had managed without him, too. It wasn’t as if Makoto couldn’t have called as well, but he hadn’t.

What if Makoto had forgotten him, too?

 

When Nagisa called a week later, Haru had almost managed to repress the thoughts of Makoto Tachibana. He’d been working harder than usual, not leaving even a speck of dirt on the poolside floor. He’d also made a point out of going to bed as early as possible, so that he’d be less tempted to sit up and ponder.

“Haru-chan.” Nagisa had whined, “I have a plane ticket for Tokyo, for tomorrow, and I can’t go – won’t you take it?”

Haru had frowned.

“I have work.”

“You told me you hadn’t taken a day off in years, I’m sure Goro-chan will understand.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, come on, Haru-chan! I even have a hotel reservation and everything! I swear I’d go myself but something came up and I just can´t! I’ll even call Goro for you-“

“Nagisa, I don’t understand. Why would I go to Tokyo-“

“Was that a yes? Good! I’ll pick you up at noon – bye!”

The click as Nagisa hung up echoed in the quiet flat and Haru just sat there, not fully grasping the reality of the situation. He knew Nagisa was a reckless and highly spontaneous creature, but this was ridiculous. He wasn’t going.

He continued to shun the tiny blond in his mind, while picking out a sports bag and filling it with clean t-shirts and mismatched socks.

 

Haruka Nanase was twenty-eight years old. He had never been on a plane before. The safety check made him nervous, even though Nagisa had told him beforehand what to expect. He saw a woman get pulled over and patted down by a female guard and shuddered at the sight, but luckily didn’t have to go through the same procedure. The woman who checked his ticket even smiled slightly at him, as she showed him the direction to go. Nothing Nagisa had said had prepared him, however, for the sensation of lifting off the ground. The treetops grew smaller and smaller, and then Haruka could see the seashore far below. The roofs of Iwatobi gleamed in the sunlight as he left his hometown for the first time. He hated the way his eardrums felt strange under the pressure of ascending, he hated the way his stomach felt light and most of all he hated leaving all that was familiar. Haru clutched his, now turned off, phone tightly.

“Are you travelling for work or pleasure, Sir?” a little girl sat beside him asked, politely. She had big brown eyes and her dark hair was in high pigtails.

“Neither.” He shrugged and turned back to the window, to avoid further conversation.

 

Tokyo was big.

So big, in fact, that if there hadn’t been a cabbie waiting at the airport (holding a sign saying ‘Hazuki’) Haru might’ve had a panic attack. The streets were so crowded he found himself thinking of sardines. Outside the cab window there were big neon signs advertising everything from boy bands to Coca Cola. Nothing was familiar, and it made Haru feel a bit sick.

The hotel room was almost the size of Haruka’s entire flat back home, and that in itself would’ve been intimidating if it wasn’t for the sheer size of the included bathtub. It took almost fifteen minutes just to fill it up, even though the taps were wider than Haru had ever seen. Soaking his body in water made the stress from the journey settle into something almost resembling calm. He lifted his hand, watching small droplets falling from his skin to hit the surface. The bathroom was twice as big as the one in his small Iwatobi home, with white tile covering most of the walls and the floor. There was a huge mirror covering almost the entire wall opposite the bathtub, and Haru studied his own face in its reflection. He hadn’t realised it before, but the man looking back at him was not the same who had attended the Iwatobi High School a decade ago. Though he detested every thought of change time had gotten to him too, in the end. His face was different, with cheekbones a bit more pronounced and eyes no longer ablaze with the naivety of youth. At least he’d yet to gain wrinkles. The swimming had paid off, though he trained nowhere near as much as he once had, and his physical shape resembled the one he’d had as an eighteen-year-old. Haru figured that he hadn’t changed as much on the outside as on the inside. In fact, he hadn’t really thought of that change, either.

The way one sees the world at eighteen was rather different, now that he did think about it. There was a gullible part of himself that he’d left behind at some point.

A determined knock on he door woke Haru from his thoughts.

He got up reluctantly, wrapping his bare hips in a white towel before answering it.

“Haruka Nanase?” a young woman asked, clad in the hotel’s assigned uniform. She blushed and cleared her throat at his state of undress, but Haru didn’t really care. His wet hair was dripping onto the carpet.

“There was a message from a Mr Hazuki left at the reception, Sir.” She stuttered slightly, actively trying not to let her gaze wander. The envelope she clutched in her small hands was pushed into Haru’s own, and then she quickly turned to leave. Haru let the door fall shut just as the towel slid off his wet skin.

The envelope contained a piece of paper.

There was an address written on it, followed by a short message.

 

_I found him. Go._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while sleep deprived and I've proof-read it but I'm sure I missed something... If there's something terribly wrong I apologize.
> 
> Also I feel like I'm starving you. There will be actual Makoharu in this fic, I promise. JUST YOU WAIT.

The neighbourhood was nice enough. A girl walked past with a small dog on a leash – she smiled politely at Haru as their eyes met. The building was awfully tall. Nagisa’s note said eighth floor.

The lift was as big as Haru’s bathroom back home. The walls were lined with mirrors and just as the doors were closing a little old lady came limping – gripping her cane with bony fingers. Haru saw the stressful look in her eyes and stopped the doors with his foot, gaining a grateful smile.

“Thank you, young man.” She cooed, pushing her glasses up her round nose.

“It’s nothing.”

Haru had never had a problem with silence, but the way the old woman looked at him made him feel uneasy. If he hadn’t felt the need to be polite he would have asked what her problem was.

“Are you here to visit relatives?” she asked, as the  floor display above the door reached five.

“No, Madam.”

“Oh, sorry, my bad then. It’s just that I’ve never met you before, yet I could _swear_ -“

There was a loud _ping_ as the doors opened. The display showed floor six.

“Ah, never mind. Good day to you.” The old lady smiled and then Haru found himself alone in the lift as the doors closed and he continued his ascent.

 

Nagisa entered the small café, a bright grin spreading over his face as he spotted the redhead sat by the window.

“Rin-chan!” he beamed, and Rin looked up – giving a little wave, as Nagisa got closer.

“Nagisa Hazuki.” He chuckled, “You sure haven’t changed.”

“I’d say the same to you.” The blond replied, “Congratulations on making the Olympics, by the way, I saw you on TV just last week.”

Rin laughed, louder this time, and took a sip of his coffee.

“It’s hard work, you know. Sometimes I wish there were more than twenty-four hours a day, but hey, what can you do.”

The waitress, who’d noticed Nagisa’s arrival, came to take his order. He settled for hot chocolate. Rin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes.

“I’m glad you could see me, though you’re so busy. It’s been years, hasn’t it?” Nagisa said, shrugging off his jacket and placing it over the back of his chair.

“Anything for an old friend. Speaking of, have you got any contact with the others?”

Nagisa shook his head.

“Well, I haven’t been in Japan for so long. You could say I’m working on it. Went to see Haru-chan a while ago, though.” He saw Rin’s eyes light up at the mere mention of his old friend, “He seemed unaltered.”

“He is.” Rin sighed, “I worry about his sometimes. But you know Haru – he’s always been his own man. I’m sure he’ll figure things out, in the end.”

“Maybe.” Nagisa said, suddenly anxious. Had he done the right thing, forcing Haru out of his shell? Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed him?

“So,” Rin started, “You’ve met Haru. Have you gotten around to seeing anyone else? Or should I feel special to be number two on the list?”

“Oh, yes, you should.” Nagisa laughed, trying his best to remain cheerful. Haru could manage, he was sure. Rin stretched his arms out over his head.

“Well, I haven’t been the best at keeping up friendships either, I guess.” He smiled faintly, “Christmas cards from the Tachibana’s, and the odd text from Haru. That’s basically it.”

“At least you’ve stayed in touch. How’s Makoto doing, anyway?”

Rin got quiet and then smiled, looking almost sentimental.

“He’s fine. Mako’s always been a fighter. Little Kaito will be four next month.”

 

There were three doors on the eighth floor. The one to the right said Yoshida. Haru found himself almost hoping he’d gone to the wrong building in the first place. He wanted to go home and forget this whole business. But, of course, Nagisa had known what he was talking about. The second door said Tachibana.

He pushed the doorbell reluctantly. Maybe nobody was home? It was late, but maybe Makoto was working, and no one would answer?

The padding sound of feet was heard from within the flat and Haru felt his pulse quicken. The door-handle was pulled, and the door pulled open, and Haru felt his breath catch in his throat.

In front of him stood a child. He couldn’t be more than five years old, with the way his limbs were still chubby and his eyes looked too big in proportion to his face. The boy had jet-black hair and bright blue eyes and he looked at Haru with both curiosity and confusion.

“Kai?” someone called from inside the flat, and more footsteps were heard approaching, but Haru couldn’t stop staring at the young boy before him.

He looked just like Haru had, at that age.

It wasn’t as if Haru could remember being four or five, but he’d seen enough photos to know that he’d been a fairly cute boy with chubby cheeks and big eyes. Eyes just like the ones that were presently staring at him.

 

“Haru?”

 

Haruka looked up at the call of his name and found himself, once again, breathless. Makoto Tachibana hadn’t changed a lot, but at the same time he had changed too much. A pair of smart-looking glasses framed his green eyes, but Haru still noticed the dark circles that underlined them. His hair was shorter, his arms just a little bit thinner, and the way he looked at Haru was as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Haru, is that _you_?”

Haru didn’t know what to say.

“Makoto.” He nodded, throwing a quick glance at the child who was still staring at him with wide eyes.

“Oh my _god_ , Haru.” Strong arms were thrown around him, and before he could react he was enveloped in familiar warmth, “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Makoto was hugging him, tightly, and the breath Haru had just regained was lost for the third time that evening. Makoto was there. He smelled like dish soap and strawberries and something else – something Haru quickly realized he had been missing.

The hug was over as quickly as it had begun.

“Sorry,” Makoto blurted, a faint blush on his cheeks, “Come on in. We’ve just had dinner – would you like something to eat?”

Haru was led into a spacious kitchen, where the smell of fried vegetables still hung in the air. The sound of tiny feet followed them. Makoto saw Haru throw yet another glance at the young boy who walked just behind him.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. Haru, this is Kaito.” He seemed to look almost apologetic, as if he was ashamed of something, “My son.”

Haruka told himself not to be shocked. He should have put two and two together. Why would there be a child in Makoto’s flat if it wasn’t Makoto’s child? He tried to remind himself that ten years was a long time. Most people got married their age-

“Are you married?” Haru heard himself ask. There was a photograph on the counter of a young woman in a white dress. There were also several of her and Makoto together with the wide-eyed boy – Kaito.

Makoto didn’t have time to answer. A shrill sound rang through the flat, and Kaito’s eyes turned from Haru to the hallway. It was the doorbell.

“Right, Kai, go get your bag, sweetie.” Makoto smiled and pushed past Haru to answer the door. Haru was on the brink of saying something about how he wouldn’t have come if he knew they were expecting someone but the words stayed on his tongue.

Makoto had opened the door and through it came a woman, probably around Haru’s age, with jet-black hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi, I’m in a bit of a hurry, so I hope he packed-“

The woman’s eyes fell on Haru and she stopped dead in her tracks. Her already big eyes widened, and her mouth fell open as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence she pushed past Makoto and took the few steps forward needed to be face to face with Haru, who shivered.

“Haruka Nanase, isn’t it?” she asked, but somehow it sounded more like a statement than an actual question. Haru didn’t have time to answer her before she continued.

“I can’t believe it.” She said, voice perfunctory, “Haruka bloody Nanase.”

“Asami-“ Makoto began, but was instantly interrupted.

“After all this time, you finally show up.” the woman, who Haru read as not quite friendly, stated. Only this time the statement sounded very much like a question.

“Asami, please don’t do this.” Makoto pleaded, and the woman’s eyes were finally torn from Haru to linger on the other man in the hall.

“Oh, that’s right,” She almost spat, “I forgot that Haruka Nanase is a _flawless_ human being who owes no one anything, and least of all _you_ , isn’t that right?”

Makoto looked as if he wanted to retort, but he held his tongue, which only seemed to make the woman – who’s name was apparently Asami – more upset.

“For _once_ in your life, Makoto,” she exclaimed, “Dare to speak your fucking mind, won’t you? You at least owe that to me, if not him, after all the things you put me through.”

“Mum.” A tiny voice suddenly piped up somewhere behind Haru, and Asami spun around to see Kaito standing there – grasping a backpack in his small hand.

“Ah, Kai.” She forced a happy smile, though her eyes were still raging, “Let’s be off. We need to get some groceries before the shop closes.” Her outstretched hand was soon taken by the child who had run to greet her. The pair stepped towards the door, Asami throwing Makoto an aggravated look. Haruka thought they’d be gone by the time he looked up from where his gaze was resting on the shoe shelf, but as he did blue eyes met his own.

“I swear to god, I hope you make him happy,” Asami said, “Because apparently nobody else ever will.”

The door was slammed shut and silence fell in the flat. It wasn’t the same uncomfortable silence that Haru had experienced earlier in the lift, nor was it like the one he’d experienced with Asami moments before, but it sure wasn’t comfortable.

At least a minute passed until Makoto suddenly opened his mouth again.

“We need to talk.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fucking cliffhangers? Is she serious? What the actual-
> 
> I'm so sorry! This is shorter than I meant it to be, but it felt like a good place to end it.  
> I'll have the next chapter finished in no time, I swear!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years is a long time, but some things don't fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers, this chapter may or may not contain porn.  
> Yeah. Now you know.

The silence was almost deafening. Not a sound was heard, except the slow breathing of the two men sat opposite each other by the kitchen table. Makoto was the one who, after what seemed like forever, broke it.

“I could boil some tea.” He said, more to himself than anyone, and Haruka nodded once in agreement.

The sound of boiling water seemed almost worse than the silence, since it was just loud enough to make conversation troublesome, but not so loud the silence wasn’t still uncomfortable. Haru found himself discreetly throwing glances out the window. It was dark out – as dark as it ever got in the centre of Tokyo – though the thousand lights from windows and cars made it impossible to see the stars. Haru missed Iwatobi. 

Makoto didn’t say anything as he handed Haru the cup of hot tea. He sat down again, by the table, his hands around his own cup. Haru followed the faint pillar of steam that rose from the liquid and found himself meeting Makoto’s green eyes with his own. The colour, at least, hadn’t changed since they were children.

“I’m sorry,” Haru said, and Makoto flinched at the sudden sound of his voice, “for barging in like this. I understand if it’s not a good time.”

Makoto shook his head, with a forced smile.

“No, really, it’s fine.” He replied, “I wasn’t doing anything special.”

Haru sensed the awkward silence returning, and hurried to speak up again.

“It’s been a while. You look healthy.” It was an exaggeration, really. Haru had never seen Makoto looking so tired, but he supposed adulthood would do that to you.

“It has.” The taller of the two sighed, and this time his smile looked genuine, although tired, “I am. It’s just been a lot to think about recently, what with the divorce and all-“

“You were married.” Haru didn’t really need to ask, but he felt he had to say it aloud to really grasp the fact that it was true, “To that woman.”

Makoto nodded.

“We met at med school. Asami was always a loner, but I guess I liked that in her.” He blushed, as if he’d been caught thinking of things he shouldn’t, “But it didn’t work out, in the end, and I guess Kai will be the one to pay for that. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for causing him so much trouble.”

“Your son.” Again, Haru had no need to ask, but found himself doing so still.

“Yes, Kaito. He’s four next month. _God_ , does time fly.”

Haruka noticed the way Makoto’s eyes went soft whenever he mentioned the little boy. He’d never understood the bond between parent and child, but he guessed it had to be something special.

“I’m sorry for not contacting you,” Haru said, voice deadpan, “Until now. I would’ve liked to be at the wedding.” He didn’t really mean the last bit. He figured attending each other’s weddings was a thing that friends were supposed to do, but for some reason the thought of it made him feel sick. Makoto looked up at that, facing his old friend with a pain in his eyes – a pain Haru could not understand.

“Don’t be sorry.” He said, a strange tone in his voice that was hard to place. It sounded like guilt, but at the same time it was so aggressive it made Haru flinch.

“You have no need to be sorry.” Makoto continued, voice a little softer, “I am just as much to blame. It’s not your fault I didn’t invite you, I just- Rin asked, and I just _couldn’t_ -“ the guilt in his voice was now too obvious not to notice.

“ _Rin_ was there?” Haru didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

“He was.”

Haru had always assumed that he and Makoto were closer than Rin and Makoto had ever been. He’d always thought that, and yet, Rin had been allowed at Makoto’s wedding and not him. It felt like betrayal. It made the strange squeezing feeling, from the office at the swim club back in Iwatobi, return.

“He asked for you, but I told him you couldn’t make it.” Makoto said, his voice now trying desperately to conceal every trace of emotion.

“You lied to him.”

Makoto looked out the window, avoiding Haru’s accusing eyes. His fingers were gripping the now lukewarm cup of tea, so hard his knuckles had whitened.

“Haru, you don’t understand.” Makoto’s voice was horse, cracking with frustration, “I _couldn’t_. I couldn’t have you there. Rin understood that. He knew I wasn’t telling the truth, but he never pried, because he knew I _couldn’t_ -“

“Couldn’t do what, Makoto?” Haru blurted, with a sudden anger welling up from within him. No, Haru hadn’t contacted Makoto for a decade, but at least he’d never actively avoided him. Makoto looked like he was on the edge of crying, but Haru didn’t care.

“Why couldn’t you? What did I ever do to make you feel that uncomfortable?”

“You didn’t do anything!” Makoto almost shouted, “It was me. It was always me, wasn’t it? I just couldn’t look at you, Haru, you don’t understand-“

“Oh, really? If I don’t understand, why don’t you just _explain_ -“

 

“I was in love with you.”

 

The words that had been on Haru’s tongue seemed to evaporate. Tears began to make their way down Makoto’s cheeks, but Haru couldn’t say thing. His words had left him.

“I was in love with you, and it hurt too much.” Makoto cried, “I told myself to leave, to go on with my life. And then when I met Asami, I though I was over it – that I was over you.”

The sound of an ambulance echoed between the buildings outside, and accompanied the sound of Makoto’s voice catching in his throat as sobs ripped through his body.

“I never realised that the only reason I fell for her was because she reminded me of you. I told myself that I loved her. I married a woman I didn’t love, because I thought she could help me forget. I’ve never felt right, Haru, never in my entire life. And then, _ten fucking years_ later, here you are and I can’t stand to fucking look at you.”

Haru flinched. The Makoto he’d known had never spoken with such language. The Makoto he’d known, he realised, was long gone. Still, there he was – the frightened little boy that Haru had held hands with more than twenty years ago.

“Makoto.” Haru rose quickly, tipping over his chair in the process. He didn’t know what to do. The way Makoto’s shoulders were shaking made the anger in his veins disappear.

Makoto flinched as Haru’s arms embraced him, but Haru didn’t pull away. He held him until he could feel wet tears bleed through the fabric of his shirt. He held him until Makoto, with a quiet sob, held him back.

“Makoto, please don’t cry.”

 

Makoto’s lips tasted like salt. Haru didn’t even reflect upon the fact that this was his first kiss. He just pressed his mouth to Makoto’s and felt the other melt in his arms. It was a weird sensation, when Makoto’s tongue slipped into his mouth. It felt wet, but somehow it made a warm feeling spread in Haru’s stomach. His hands tangled in Makoto’s hair. Makoto let out a sob, but this time it sounded different. It was more of a gasp, really, and it made the warm feeling spread further south. Haru kissed Makoto’s cheek, then his chin, then his throat. His lips found their way over soft skin, nipping at an earlobe, receiving a quiet whimper from Makoto.

“Haru.” He groaned, “Haru, wait.”

Haru didn’t want to wait. He was filled with a sudden urge to taste – to touch. His hands found the hem of Makoto’s blue button-up and his fingers slid up his warm back. The heat that radiated between them was almost electric, and Haru wanted more.

Makoto grabbed his hands and determinedly pushed him away.

“Haru, we _can’t_.” he said, face now red and hot.

“Why not?”

“It’s been ten years. Things have changed. We’ve changed.” Makoto avoided his gaze, once again looking out the window. Haru sighed, wanting to push, though a voice in his head told him to just let it be.

“I have a kid. I have a job I have to go to in the morning. I’m not a teenager anymore, Haru, I have responsibilities – I’m not who you remember me to be.”

“But you _are_.” Haru couldn’t help the way his hand cupped Makoto’s face, “You’re exactly the same.”

This time when their lips met it was different. There was something desperate in the way Makoto clasped Haru’s shirt in his fist, as if he’d let go of the restrain he’d fought so hard to uphold. They kissed, and Haru’s hands went back to their previous spot beneath Makoto’s shirt – this time uninterrupted. Heat was once again between them, growing more intense by the second, and soon Haru felt as if he couldn’t take it any longer. His fingers slid dangerously close to the waistband of Makoto’s jeans, and Makoto gasped audibly.

“Oh, fuck it.” The taller whined, as he suddenly got to his feet, “Come on.”

He pulled Haru by the hand, out of the kitchen and through the hall, past a closed door that read ´Kaito´ in colourful letters, into a room that Haru realized (after a few moments of confusion) was Makoto’s bedroom. Before he could ponder all the things that implied Makoto’s lips were on his again. They stumbled onto the bed, and Haru fumbled with the buttons of Makoto’s shirt. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he kept going. He wanted to touch and their clothes were an obstacle.

“Oh, Haru.” Makoto’s eyes were squeezed shut as Haru kissed his neck, sucking skin between his teeth, “Haru, please fuck me.”

 

Haruka Nanase was twenty-eight years old. He had never had sex before. It wasn’t really that the idea hadn’t appealed to him – he simply had never had that kind of relationship with anyone. Makoto’s body was a puzzle. He tried to fit the pieces together, tried to understand what it was that he was doing. Makoto looked him in the eye, with pupils so dilated the green of his irises was almost non-existent. 

“Don’t think so much.” He said.

 

Makoto’s fingers guided him, showed him where to push and where to prod. Haru’s hands were trembling as his fingers slipped into Makoto, loosening the tight ring of muscle with their movements. Makoto’s hands had found their way between Haru’s legs, stroking sensitive skin. Haru had never felt so hot in his life. He crooked his fingers and suddenly Makoto’s head was thrown back as a shiver ran through his body.

“Makoto?” Haru gasped, and felt the hand around his cock loosen its grip.

“I want you to-“ the way Makoto spread his legs made it quite obvious what he was after. Haru took a deep breath. He felt gentle hands guiding him again, pulling him closer.

Pushing into Makoto was like nothing Haru had ever experienced.

The heat between them had turned into something different. With every inch he moved waves of pleasure hit him, and the craving to touch came back so strong it almost brought Haru to tears. Makoto’s body was burning, vibrating with energy and every touch saw electricity run between them. He thrust his hips forward, and felt Makoto tighten around him, letting out a low moan. It felt so good. It felt too good.  He started moving in a rhythm, going faster as he felt Makoto rocking back against him. Makoto lifted his leg onto Haru’s shoulder, allowing him to go deeper. Their gasping filled the bedroom, accompanied by the bed’s quiet creaking and the thuds as the headboard hit the wall – over and over.

Makoto started moaning, gripping the sheets with white knuckles, and before long semen was spilling down his stomach as his body shook with waves of white-hot pleasure. Haru felt warmth coil up in his lower stomach and pushed forward once more, before he followed the other over the edge.

He collapsed on top of Makoto, whose chest was sticky with come, gasping for air. He looked up at Makoto, whose own gasping suddenly turned into whimpers.

He was crying.

“Makoto.” Haru’s hand was at his cheek, drying tears with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Haru, I can’t do this. Not with you.” Makoto looked up with green eyes tinted red, “I’m sorry.”

He pushed Haru’s prying hands away and turned his back, still shaking slightly. Haru felt the warmth in his stomach freeze into the squeezing feeling he’d now grown accustomed to.

“ _Makoto_.” He said, trying not to let his voice falter.

“Please don’t.”

“Makoto, I love you.”

 

The silence that followed was unbearable, but somehow Haru feared it breaking. It was like a bubble of glass protecting him, and breaking it would send him falling into something unknown. So he waited, watching Makoto’s shoulders stiffen. Two minutes passed on the digital clock on the bedside table before Makoto finally turned towards him again.

“You don’t know me.” He said, voice filled with regret, “You haven’t known me for ten years. I could be anyone, by now.”

“You’re Makoto Tachibana.” Haruka said, trying desperately to sound confident, “You have green eyes, you cry easily, you smell like home and I _love_ you.”

Makoto, who had just stopped crying, smiled sadly as his eyes once again filled up with tears. His arms felt safe and warm as they embraced Haru in a warm hug.

“This is never going to work.” He said, with something resembling a chuckle.

“How can you say that without trying.” Haru smiled as he pressed his face into Makoto’s neck. This time the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but warm. It felt like safety.

“Haru.” Makoto whispered, almost too quiet for the other to hear, “I think I still love you, too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I am aware that was the worst sex scene I've ever written.  
> Not that I've written that many, but you get me...
> 
> Next chapter will be some kind of epilogue I think, and you'll probably get more Rin.  
> Because Rin is my precious baby, deal with it. (I love him almost as much as I love Makoto.)
> 
> I am also sorry for turning Makoto into a whiny little bitch. 3


End file.
